


Now You Must Endure

by chaoticaverage



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Post-War Table Operation: Protect Clan Lavellan (Dragon Age), Solavellan, Solavellan Hell, Sometimes Solas Needs to Get Yelled At
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:34:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26270482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaoticaverage/pseuds/chaoticaverage
Summary: Maisha copes with the loss of her clan
Relationships: Female Lavellan/Solas, Lavellan & Solas
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	Now You Must Endure

Amidst the quiet buzz of morning in Skyhold, on an otherwise uneventful day, a bloodcurdling wail emanated from the rookery. The cacophony of flapping wings that followed was almost as loud, masking for a moment the broken sobs coming from the Inquisitor’s throat. Solas’s eyes snapped to the balcony above him. At the moment he realized who the cry belonged to, the book he was holding clattered to the ground. His eyes widened. “Maisha,” he whispered. His feet could not carry him fast enough as he ran up the stairs to the rookery. He scanned the first level, and did not see her. Dorian, noting the panic in Solas’ eyes, and struggling through his own, met the elf’s gaze and pointed up. Solas nodded, taking to the second flight of stairs. As he reached the upper floor of the rookery, he was nearly knocked down by a handful of scouts clearly scattering out of sight. His gaze found Maisha quickly in the now almost empty room, and his heart wrenched. She was slumped to the floor in Leliana’s arms, clutching a piece of paper in her hand and weeping. He had never seen her so devastated, so utterly captured by sorrow, even after they had lost Haven. He walked quickly over to the two women, crouching on the side opposite Leliana. He placed a hand on Maisha’s shoulder and looked to Leliana with a pained, questioning expression. Leliana grimaced, gesturing at the letter in Maisha’s grasp. “ _Her clan,_ ” Leliana mouthed. Solas looked back at her, confused. Leliana sighed, and began to stand up. “Inquisitor. _Maisha_. I must take my leave now. I am so, so very sorry,” she said softly, before walking away. As soon as they were alone, Solas wrapped his arms around the Inquisitor and pulled her tightly against his chest. “ _Vhenan,_ please. What is the matter? Are you hurt?” She lifted her hand slightly, opening her grip. Solas took the letter from her, carefully smoothing it along his knee, and he began to read.

“Da'len,

I know not whether this will reach you. The Duke of Wycome is dead, and the soldiers of Wycome blame us. All the elves in the city have been killed, blamed for some plague that only strikes down humans. Now they hunt us as well.

Most of the clan is already dead.

Live well, da'len. You carry Clan Lavellan with you. They are coming for us.”

Solas’ stomach dropped. “Oh, _vhenan_. _Ir abelas, ma vhenan,_ ” he murmured, pressing his face into her hair. She leaned against his chest, her sobs beginning to slow. “They’re gone¸ everyone¸ my family…I couldn’t…” she groaned, her voice hoarse and thick with tears. She looked up at him with despair in her eyes. “What is the point of this blighted position if I can’t save my own people?”  
Pulling her tightly against him. He knew all too well the helplessness she felt now. “This is not your fault,” he said, softly but sternly, wiping away tears from beneath her golden-blue eyes with his thumb.  
Suddenly, she pulled away, rising to her feet, fists clenched at her sides. “I should have been there.”  
Solas stood slowly. “You had know way of knowing thi—”

“No, Solas. I should have been there. I’m not supposed to be here.” Maisha spun on her heels, her once desperate eyes now filled with a burning rage. “I begged to go to the conclave. _Begged_ ,” she hissed. “I was such a fool. All I wanted was to be free of the clan, to travel the world, to have a life that was my own.” Her eyes dropped to the floor and she chuckled darkly. “I guess I got my wish. Now I am alone.”  
Solas’ heart tightened in his chest. He stepped forward, instinctively reaching out for her hand, but she backed away. After a moment, confused, Solas replied: “you are not alone, _lethallan_.”

The tension holding Maisha’s shoulders tight to her ears fell and she sighed. “ _Ar lath ma_ , Solas, but look at us. The People suffer while we are safe in these gilded walls, in a fortress built on desecrated ground. I am bid, every day, to extend the empires of those who have _butchered_ the People, who keep them locked in alienages or keep them as slaves. How long until Josephine asks me to make overatures of peace to the men who killed my family? How many of them still curse that their precious _herald_ is nothing but a blighted knife-ear? And you! You long for the ghosts of ancient elves that whisper in the Fade yet deny any relation to those of your—yes, _your_ —people who still live. You claim to begrudge humans, but you do their work for them. _Ma banal las halamshir var vhen_. Would you even mourn Clan Lavellan if you did not want me in bed?”

Solas’ eyes widened in shock. “I’m—I’m sorry you feel that way. I don’t…” He was at a loss for words. She had never lashed out at him—at anyone, as far as he knew—this way. “If you want me to go…” he began to turn, but was surprised to feel a small hand grasp at the edge of his sleeve.

“ _Ir abelas_ , Solas. I’m sorry,” she said quietly. He turned to find her red faced wrath faded to exhaustion. “Please…”  
  
Any resentment he held to her accusations melted away as he pulled her into his arms once more. “The path of The People is filled with sorrow, _vhenan_. _Mala suledin nadas_.”

She nodded solemnly, pressing her hand against his chest as she pulled herself from his embrace.

“I have work to do,” she said quietly, with resolve in her eyes. Solas nodded, and she turned from him.

Solas stood alone in the rookery for some time, listening to the rustle of flapping wings and clatter of cages. Maisha’s words rang in his head. _Ma banal las halamshir var vhen_ —you have abandoned us. Had he? Was not his entire purpose to restore The People to their rightful place? Yes, many of the Dalish and the city elves would die, but in time they would be able to rebuild magnificent empires, retake their land and their traditions…wouldn’t they? Was that not worth it? He felt an unfamiliar flicker of doubt, and wished more than anything that he could share this with Maisha, to show her that he had not abandoned The People, that there was hope.

He steeled himself against that wish. _Where I am going, she must not follow_.

**Author's Note:**

> Ir abelas -- I am sorry   
> Vhenan -- (My) heart   
> Ar lath ma -- I love you   
> Mala suledin nadas -- Now you must endure   
> Ma banal las halamshir var vhen -- You do nothing for the people/You have abandoned us   
> Lethallan -- friend (term of endearment, feminine/neuter form)


End file.
